


Just so the stillness makes sense to me

by 71TeenIdles



Series: Maintain the maddness [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: First Meetings, Human Disaster Matt Murdock, Hurt Matt Murdock, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Inaccuracies, Night Nurse AU, Other, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Mess, Powerless Peter Parker, devildad, disapointed dad Matt, please kid this is claires job
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:35:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25124791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/71TeenIdles/pseuds/71TeenIdles
Summary: Peter parker likes to go on late night walks, what else is a medical obsessed teenager to do at 2:00 AM?then an unlikely meeting on a roof-top with a devil suited figure interrupts his night, what could go wrong?
Relationships: Matt Murdock & Claire Temple, Matt Murdock & Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Matt Murdock & Peter Parker, Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Series: Maintain the maddness [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1820020
Comments: 6
Kudos: 89





	Just so the stillness makes sense to me

**Author's Note:**

> a nice, small fic to start off a whole verse!  
> the title is from one of my all-time favorite songs, Maintain the madness by The Jane Austen Argument!

_ ‘Now we’re gonna tie the suture, turn your finger this way and tuck the thread.’ _

Peter tied the knot with the cheap tweezers he held in his sweaty grasp. When he put one down and cut the extra string he let go of a breath. He averted his eyes to the right, 1:23 his clock said, he tutted and picked up the raggedy stuffed animal.

“Only weirdos stitch their stuffed animals like that,” he said to himself, turning to the left and putting his head down into folded hands, then he came across the crumpled papers.  _ ‘Math’ _ . He lifted his head and crumpled up the papers into balls, then shoved them in his trash can under the desk. 

Peter looked Blankly forward at the window leading to the fire escape, then looked to where his hoodie was half haphazardly thrown on the top bunk. He looked away before he pushed himself off the creaky chair and moved towards the bed. His hands touched the fabric as he swung the grey jacket over his shoulders. He glanced towards the window as he slid his arms through the sleeves. Then he briskly walked over to the desk, making a sweep with his arm as he grabbed his phone. He shoved his earbuds in his ears as music began playing. 

_ “I went to New York and paid lots of money _

_ To stay in the silence and not play for anyone” _

His sneakers stomped through the alleyway, this is a stupid idea. The same thing he says to himself every walk. He ignores it and treads on, it’s a process he repeats, he doesn’t go too far, though he stumbles up fire escapes like a blind man. 

Air, Peter thought. just a shit ton of chemicals, given life to walking corpses like him. Down below the air felt thick, a big smoggy and flooding his brain with thoughts of poison and red pen marking papers he’d slaved over for weeks, 54, Peter thought, 54 missing assignments… but up here he couldn’t be bothered, the air felt normal, there was nothing better than the peace surrounding him when he was up that high. 

Then a shadow caught the corner of his eyes, so he stepped off the ledge and stared into the chilled night, then there was a thump, and a sigh. Peter shivered, he tugged his hoodie down and flipped up the hood. There was a wheeze coming from the shadows, and a clank. 

“If you-,” Peter said, of medium volume, then he thought. “Who are you?” no answer, just wheezing, and a few sputtering coughs. “Tell me who you are, or I turn on my flashlight and figure it out myself.”

“Hng.” a short groan, deep and growl like. “Don’t” was all that came from him. 

“Yeah? And what’s stopping me? not you surly.” he said with a twitch of his eyebrow. And there was a huff of amusement coming from the man. So Peter clenched his fist and slid his notification bar down taking note of the time 3:53 AM. taking a deep breath with his left thumb hovering on the screen, with a hiss of air between his teeth he pressed the plastic. 

There was light, not too bright but he could see the developing saturation and the beginnings of a figure. The red seeped through his field of vision a bit fuzzy without his glasses. But there was one thing he couldn’t make out, small blobs of red higher than his head ‘attached to something maybe?’ then he squinted.  _ “Hell no.” _ he whispered under his breath.

Then a laugh rang in the hollow air, “take a picture why don’t ya?” he said with a bit of a drawl. 

“You’re hurt,” Peter said as he stepped forward about two feet away, then he unfurled his fist. 

“Yes, I’m aware.” Daredevil grimaced. In the wake of the stern silence that fell, he opened his bloody mouth, “here,” he slid a rusty and scratched flip phone across the blood-streaked concrete. “Call Claire.” 

Peter bent down and picked the metal junk up. He flipped it open, wildly guessing how to use something like this. He saw the name then called. 

“This is Claire Temple, I’m currency occupied at the moment, please leave a message.” 

Peter narrowed his eyes and tried again, then again, given nothing but the same message. So Peter glared at the heap of red kevlar on the ground. “She’s not answering.”

Daredevil was so kind as to give a thick hack, the splat of blood on the ground before he snarled out  _ “fuck”  _

“Look, I have supplies in my apartment, I should be back soon. You can stop yourself from bleeding out, right?” He said. A gruff breath, he was holding his bleeding arm and side with his hands. 

“That’s a no.” Peter snarked. He put both his earbuds and his phone in his front jean pocket. He glanced at the darkness that cast a shadow over both of them, he glanced as Daredevil's mouth portrayed confusion. Then he took off his hoodie, taking a guess as he tossed it at Daredevil. “Use that, tie it tight.” Peter said, ignoring the cold slapping his arms. Though Peter couldn’t see it, he got the feeling he nodded. So he began walking away, stepping out of the dark shadows to the light-polluted sky casting a hazy glow about the roof’s concrete.

“Why?” Daredevils’ raspy voice asked. “You don’t have to do this...” he trailed off shifting a little and hissing. 

Peter shuffled a bit, fidgeting with the bottom of his tee-shirt as the wind moved his hair onto his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but the reasoning was stuck in his throat.

“I can't- I can't leave you like this, not in good conscience.” 

**Author's Note:**

> did you like it? make sure to let me know!


End file.
